THE VERDICT: Humble and Heroic, Crawford was the Rock Chicago Needed

Nobody knows when the Blackhawks will play again. Gary Bettman, the ambitious commisioner of the National Hockey League, has targeted, with fingers crossed,
January 1 as a start date for next season
. What this means, at the very least, is that we will have turned the calendar of 2020, a year of living horribly, with fear and trembling.
But even if that works, who would dare venture a guess as to what the United Center will look like? Will the stands be empty? Will there be some fans, socially distanced? Will they be able to buy a beer and try to feel normal again? Will they have their temperature checked before being seated?

Only one matter has been resolved. A very important individual, a bastion of stability during the most successful decade in franchise history, will not be wearing a mask because he won't be there. Corey Crawford is moving onward.
Stan Bowman, the Senior Vice President/General Manager,
made the announcement Thursday
. It was an emotional telephone conversation, he said, because Crawford, the goalie with a pair of Stanley Cup rings and the pulse rate of a librarian, was always there when the Blackhawks needed him. He was the last man between the enemy before him and the red light behind him, and he was exceptional. That's what made this last call -- however inevitable as time marches on and youth moves in -- so difficult.
The Blackhawks, closing in on their 100th anniversary, have been blessed with many great goalies. Glenn Hall, Tony Esposito, Ed Belfour, Charlie Gardiner. All Hall of Famers. Dominik Hasek is enshrined too, but he got away, and also Harry Lumley, who was here only briefly. Then there was Al Rollins, who toiled for a desultory squad that won 12 of 70 games, and still earned the Hart Trophy as the NHL's most valuable (and tormented) player.
But only Crawford won two Stanley Cups and 52 playoff games with the Blackhawks.

It is an odd time, indeed. At the NHL Draft Tuesday, the Blackhawks drafted Lukas Reichel, a precocious left wing from Germany. Normally, he would have been present for the celebration, with parents and friends hugging and shaking hands, then meeting team executives. Instead, Reichel was Zoomed in at an early morning hour from a Berlin restaurant, where the last call was gleeful occasion, unlike Thursday's to Crawford. Blackhawk scouts had to go with what they had on Reichel before the COVID-19 shutdown in mid-March, but they had a file on him and how he might represent the future.
There will be no lack of information whatsoever on Crawford, wherever he goes. His new team will know that Crawford paid his dues. From 2005 to 2010, he stopped pucks for the Norfolk Admirals and Rockford IceHogs, while making only eight cameos in Chicago. Crawford might have stayed with the Blackhawks for the 2009-10 season, but they went with Antti Niemi. He took them to their first Cup since 1961, and Crawford took the situation like the rock of a man he is.
Crawford's next team won't have to worry about him flaring up, or spinning out of control, either. His speech at a parade might require editing for the nightly news, but while at work on the ice, he is a pro. We've all seen goalies who lose it when a teammate zigs instead of zags and the puck ends up in the back of the net. What follows is that cold glare at the guilty party, perhaps for only a few awkward seconds. Crawford? Never did he plant a silent laser fume on a comrade over a breakdown. Every goal he allowed was his fault, even when it wasn't. That's how this Crow flies.

At Crawford's new address, there needn't be any qualms about his hunger to compete. Indeed, before negotiating another contract that wasn't to be with the Blackhawks, he clearly stated that for all his love of the organization and adopted hometown, coasting into the twilight was not an option. Crawford is 35, and financially just fine. But he wanted to play the most grueling position in professional sports most of the time, period. None of this backup stuff. Crawford digs fast cars, but a hood ornament, he's not.
Speaking of which, the litany of his sidekicks and partners is extensive. Marty Turco, Ray Emery, Scott Darling, to cite a few. Not a single one did Crawford ever treat without respect. If you occupied a neighboring locker, you were just another esteemed soul who was daring enough to choose that perilous position. When Robin Lehner and his high-profile joined the Blackhawks, Crawford's workload changed, but not his attitude. Was Lehner a threat? Was Lehner a rival? No, the threats and rivals were across the hall in the visitors' quarters. Crawford, the incumbent, bonded with the newcomer. Ask Lehner about Crawford.
Ask all of Crawford's brothers on the Blackhawks about him. They will say that they played with unabated confidence when he was in the cage. Maybe even too loose on occasion, because they just knew he would make the crucial save, whether it was against a bottom-feeder foe in January, or in June of 2013, when his goals against average for 23 playoff games was 1.84. The Boston Bruins thought they could beat him on the glove side, and he laughed it off. The Conn Smythe Trophy might have been his, but Crawford couldn't have cared less.

As Bowman noted Thursday, being surrounded by flashy stars likely robbed Crawford of proper recognition, in Chicago and throughout the NHL. But not in the room. Not with his guys. Crawford incurred injuries, concussions, and then the vile COVID-19 just prior to the Return to Play in July. He could have opted out of the Edmonton bubble and returned to his couch with that young family. But no, not a chance. He put on that mask to tend goal for his other family, the guys in the room for whom he was always there.
Whenever Corey Crawford reappears at the United Center, his new team should know that if, fingers crossed again, there's the usual sellout crowd, there will be a video tribute, and there will be a standing ovation to singe your ears, and it will be quite a while between the stoppage in play and the next face-off. He will wave, maybe remove his mask for a moment, not speak, then go back to work. A professional, that's what he does, better than most.